Vivi Hunger Games (name subject to change)
by nazebaka
Summary: For the 100th annual Hunger Games, to celebrate a century of successful physical hunger games, For this following century, all of the subsequent Hunger Games will be virtual. That is all."-President Rie... Yukimota has been drafted into working on the next arena. It's a common occurrence nowadays but there's a catch, several actually... I have no beta. T to be safe.


_Ok, thank you for reading this fanfiction! I nazebaka, do not game she hunger games. This is not a SYOC... If you have questions, ask in the comments. I own most of the characters (OCs). This is not going to be your average hunger games fic, the main character will be assisting the head game maker. I don't really describe her that much, so she will be the "face pic" of this fanfiction. So without further ado, ... *curtain rises*_

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-BEEP- The electronic buzzer on my Holo signaled the end of 'school'. I stayed in my seat, my cubicle, separating me from children of all ages, in all classes, in the school sector, block 4. My holo automatically blinked through the pics of all the drafted for this year. The capitol always aired it today, 3 months before the Reapings. I stretched, pressing my arms against the close walls, feeling the smooth grains of the plastic-like surface. The pix that were posted on the drafts were your school J-pegz with your last name and your initial. Timbi L... Rodriguez H...Markson F... Linus D... Muir P... Catters...  
I opened another side-thread and logged into our (already started) family line. The line was silent as I stared at the faces of those close to me. They took in my fear as I took in theirs. Muogan, as sisterly as she was, was white as a sheet, her hands grasped her knees, knuckles white and eyes wide, a stronger and taller copy of mother . Mother, on the other hand, was biting her lip and her usually limp hair laying in sections against her back in two frizzy horse-tails. Father was hiding behind his glasses, always the 'cool' one, looking like those Anime characters that we copied onto the projection cubes. ...Higgons T. Tarver ... Exol F... Werthier...  
The names and faces soon blended together on the projection so badly that my eyes started to water, I could feel another one of my random ideas starting to form. My eyes glazed over as I dived into the percent-chances that I could create a hacking program that would release the draft list as soon as it was typed up.  
"First over the district's fire-wall... ... then hop on the trains electromagnetic pulses... go thorough districts one... ...two... ... break the, wait- 2,4...times the...8.. 48- codes that would safeguard the docx and then get back to the..." as I calculated, I closed my eyes, imagining the long strings of code I would get to use if I designed such a program. I basked in the clearness of it all, the strait, blunt simplicity of it until heard my mother scream.  
My eyes flew open as started typing furiously on my board. All documents, projects and processors were analysed, then shut down as I tried to find the cause of her panic. I glanced over to my other family members, looking for some type of reaction as they too searched for the cause of my mothers outburst. Muogan was looking around frantically, brown hair flying, looking for some unknown material danger. If I hadn't been so preoccupied I would have found her floundering amusing. My father had disconnected. No doubt, taking the tel-ports to our respective school blocks to check on us. I wound a curl of hair tightly around my finger as i stared at my mothers unmoving form. After pulling up the health database I found she had fainted. As a precaution I kept a sharp lookout for irregularities in my mothers breathing patterns and heartbeat.  
there was a loud knock on the door of my cubicle and I jumped. The door then was shoved open, sliding off of its tracks slightly as my father rushed in. I stood, being a girl and descending from a bloodline of relatively short people guarantees your shortness, correct? NOT! I faced my dad at eye level at the age of 10, being 14 made me slightly taller than him, with his same face narrow but smooth and his hair, black, cropped short like a 'soldiers cut', just like I had been encouraged to do, complied and up-kept since my 6th birthday. He looked away, or at least I thought he did, as he turned to face my holo.  
"Thank heavens somebody taught you well. I will be going now to check on your older sister, hopefully she'll be at least as efficient as you are during an emergency such as this."  
"Why did my mother scream, Sir?" I asked him. It was always Sir with him, Mr Hazume if he was feeling rather informal. I steeled myself for the worst. What if Muogan had been drafted, Mother had been fired, our mayor committed a murder or-  
"You are the 15th person to be drafted into the creation of the 125th annual Hunger Games." and with that, my father, Gyozo Hazume left, leaving me to deal with the aftereffects.  
The rules differed with children. Only in district 3 where children drafted. Our population had been added to, almost overnight. one morning we woke to another 3 sectors added to our city. Within those sectors came more jobs, more schools, more space, and most important, more people. the rules for children were simple. The good news was that if you were drafted for the next games and were under the age of 18 you were automatically excused from the games for the remainder of your life. The bad news was that the mortality rate for the drafted was 3:4. Out of every 4 children, three would die from testing, radioactive waves or 'unknown circumstances'. We were, as they called it, the final stepping stones.  
All of this I took in in under 5 minutes, curled in the center of the cubicle staring into space. I have been chosen. It was a statement, a promise telling of a 25% chance of survival and 0 contact with my family for the rest of my days. Everything was supposed to be black and white. Why hadn't I considered the possibility of me being drafted? There were so many more children now I hadn't even considered the probability of being chosen. It was about a 0.001% chance, I had dealt with percents 4x smaller. Why didn't I see this one coming? Then I remembered, another rule of this drafting in district 3 was that after a year, you would be so famous that you would be adopted by a capitol citizen, having earned a better life by contributing to the deaths of over 24 of the rest of the other district's children. Resisting the urge to curl up into a ball and cry I swallowed my fears of all of the things that could go wrong. I stood up and dusted off my clothes and walked out of my cubicle. I shut down my holo and strung it back on its chain. Said object hanging around my neck and brain shut down to the point of bumping into the wall, I slowly walked down the hall, headed towards the exit.  
Heads poked out from the doors as people stared at a girl who had been drafted only minutes ago. I staggered down another hallways, ignoring the stares, pity in the eyes of my passer-byes and the people who didn't cry for me because of their relief on not being chosen as one of the drafted this year. Then again, there is always next year, and the next and the next untill that one turns 18. At the age of 18 the chances of them going to the capitol go up until they reach an age that prevents them to work on such projects.  
As I got outside I shaded my eyes from the piercing sun. Life was so bright, I had forgotten the brilliant glare of our lifesource. Suddenly a masked face blocked the warm light that had traveled across my face. Blinking a few times I noticed the buzz of a tele-porter, an eerie sound that presses on your ear drums in an ever present whine. All too soon the peacekeepers had surrounded me to take me away from my last moments. The last views of the smog-covered sky and last chances to enjoy my district. Now, the only way I was coming home was as a body, mangled after an experiment gone wrong in the hands of the government...

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_Thanks reform reading... Comments for the writer? Please? :3_


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